had such tricks, whatever they were, it seemed unlikely that a murderer would share such with anyone.
'Where would they have gone?' he asked instead.
The dwarf appeared lost for what to say. 'I do not know why they would leave, let alone to where. Il'Sänke isn't fool enough to do this without telling someone what he was up to.'
Once again, High-Tower provided a less than worthless answer.
'Thank you for your help,' Rodian said coldly.
He strode out of the keep and ran down the gatehouse tunnel. Garrogh was waiting there with the horses.
'She's gone again!' Rodian spit, losing hold of his anger. 'And so is that Suman sage! No one knows how or why, but they are out in the city somewhere.'
He swung up on Snowbird and urged her out, but where could he even begin looking?
'She's alone with the killer,' he said, wiping a hand across his face. 'Where would she go?'
He wasn't really speaking to Garrogh, but his lieutenant replied, 'Both times she's disappeared, she ended up at a'Seatt's shop.'
Rodian's eyes flew to Garrogh's face. The first night, when he'd caught Wynn inside the shop, she'd been quite friendly with Imaret. And Rodian still believed that Pawl a'Seatt was hiding something.
'Yes,' he agreed, for at least it was somewhere to start.
But what would il'Sänke do if Rodian found them and tried to take Wynn away? The mage had some motive for taking her off alone—and so recently after she'd gained access to the translations.
Rodian pulled up outside the bailey gate. Garrogh's horse skidded to a stop beside him. There was no time to send for more men, regardless that he was about to countermand his own snarling outburst. He needed at least one more of his guards.
'Lúcan! Where's your horse?'
The guardsman looked confused and pointed off along the bailey. 'We tied ours off in there, sir.'
'Get yours! And come with us.'
Chapter 18
Wynn strolled up the street past the Upright Quill as if engaged in some halfhearted errand. She kept a lethargic pace, fearing to get too far, too fast. If she traveled more than a block past the scriptorium, then Chane and Shade might grow anxious and try to shadow her through the alley behind the shops. She would be out of their sight line for too long.
The street was still empty as she passed the silversmith's fine establishment and then the perfumery. When she finally reached the far intersection, she stopped near the candle maker's shop.
'Bother!' she whispered loudly, feigning forgetfulness, and turned to head back the other way.
In spite of an outward semblance of being put upon in her late task, Wynn was tense inside. Domin il'Sänke had her sun crystal, and she was completely defenseless. In her mind's eye she couldn't stop picturing the wraith as it had appeared in her room last night. Wraps of black shroud cloth—its burial raiment— covered its shriveled form beneath the robe and cloak.
An undead, but far different from those she'd come to think of as the Noble Dead. It could kill with a touch —could feed upon her with great speed—and nothing seemed able to harm it but another undead or a majay- hì. In comparison, a vampire seemed far less of a threat.
Some of them had unique abilities, aside from knowledge and skills carried over from life. But Leesil, Chap, and Magiere had destroyed such, and Wynn had even helped a few times. Decapitation and incineration were effective in finishing them off, but these were worthless upon a creature with no true physical form. What powers did it possess aside from mimicking physical presence at need? Worse, what if it was still a mage as well?
Forcing calm, Wynn hummed a low tune she'd learned from Leesil on the voyage from the Farlands. A terrifying truth had been forming in the back of her mind.
The wraith seemed to
The wraith had entered the guild last night. Had it done so in the past, perhaps tracking those involved in the project? Obviously literate, since it sought folios, if it had once been Suman, then it could read its native language. Even il'Sänke could read some of the ancient dialects of his own tongue, but only if given enough time.
So why had the wraith been stealing translated passages, instead of going after the original texts?
It could walk through walls, and since Wynn's return surely it could have searched every corner of the guild's keep and catacombs.
Wynn slowed a little too much in her walk.
Any search of guild grounds, for a creature that could go anywhere, would have succeeded… unless the texts were stored somewhere else.
Wynn picked up her pace again. This wasn't the time to get distracted by more puzzles.
As she passed the perfumery once more, she slowed to glance at its front windows. The inner shutters were closed and barred, hiding displays of hand-blown glass and porcelain bottles filled with heady fragrances. With nothing to look at she moved on—and then stopped completely.
A column of night stood ahead in the middle of the street.
Wynn flinched, even though she was prepared for this.
Appearing solid and real, its cloak corners began to lift on their own around the black robe. Unlike what she'd seen with mantic sight, the hollow of its hood held only darkness. So alien—like spotting a black spider running up her arm. Wynn began to shudder.
It just waited, not even coming for her. Was it playing with her? Did it want her to smother in her own fear and run?
'What are you after?' she said, and her voice turned shrill. 'What is worth murder?'
Not even an echoing hiss rose around her in response.
Where was il'Sänke? He had to see it. It was standing right there in the open.
The night's chill deepened around Wynn, biting at her exposed face and hands.
The wraith slid forward across the cobblestones, its speed increasing. Wynn turned and ran.
Chane tensed to keep from charging out, his left hand with the ring still resting on Shade's back.
Wynn raced down the street, toward his hiding place.
There was no sign of il'Sänke, and Chane forced himself to wait. But the wraith was closing too fast. He held back until Wynn blurred past him—and still no sign of il'Sänke.
'Now!' he rasped, and lifted his hand from Shade's back.
The dog cut loose a wail as she lunged into the street, and the sound made Chane quiver. He pulled his longsword, counted off two forced breaths, and bolted out after Wynn.
The blade would not affect the wraith, but his task was to do anything to divert it once it faltered amid too many adversaries appearing. He had to focus on that one purpose alone.
But it did not falter—not even as Shade charged after it, snapping and snarling. It reached out with its cloth-wrapped hand, until its fingers stretched to within a hand's length of Wynn's back.
And Chane was still too far off. But Shade closed the distance.
She leaped, arcing straight at the black figure—and it vanished. Shade landed with a frustrated growl and whirled about.
Chane did the same, quickly searching the street. Like some mockery of light, a black flash caught in the left side of his vision, and he saw Wynn stumble to a halt.
The wraith stood ahead of her, down the street.
Chane veered as Wynn backpedaled and began digging into her robe's outer pocket.
One thing was clear: This creature didn't want the majay-hì to touch it. That gave Chane an
